Behind The Mask
by Todd186
Summary: Before Christine. Before the chandelier crash. Before the events that became legend a girl named Angel comes across Erik. Upon hearing her voice, Erik wished to train her vocal gift. But when other things get in their way, tragedy will strike. R&R please.
1. Introduction

_**Behind The Mask**_

_The Face In The Shadows_

Authors Note: I have this placed under the stage show but I want to let everyone know ahead of time that there will be elements from both the original Leroux novel and the stage show. I know that this is a totally different story from that which I had posted under this same title almost a year ago, but I believe this is much better. Actually, I know it is much better and I hope you enjoy it.

Introduction

Erik stood, his clothes clinging to his body. Drops of water dripped onto the cobblestone street. Despite all that had happened in the past several hours his mask had not been shed from his face. Not once.

Angel stood, mirroring his position. Her clothes were as well clinging to her body from the rain that had just fallen. She let her hair hang in her face, keeping her eyes locked on Erik's. She knew what lied beneath that mask. She had in fact crafted the very scrap of concealment for him. Only she knew what he truly looked like, inside and out.

"Go…" her voice was strained. "Go live your life and leave me here to rot in these streets for which you plucked me from when I had no one to care for me. You've made it clear you'd prefer the star than me. Let her sing for you. My voice can no longer carry a tune. Now go!" Angel turned her face and shut her eyes in pain at her last exclamation.

Erik straightened his back and turned, facing Christine, his star. He had made something of this girl when she was destined to be nothing more than a ballerina. A diamond in the rough is how he described her once to Angel. With enough effort, he was able to make a diamond from coal that no one would look at twice.

Christine ran to Erik, clutching him tightly to her. "Erik, my dear, I love you." She pulled away from him then pressed her lips against his.

Angel's stomach churned and her heart ached. Christine might know what lies beneath the mask as well but she could never know what lies beneath the surface. Anyone could see beauty in his face but beauty is only skin deep. Christine has only scratched the surface of Erik's beauty.

"My Christine," he whispered into her ear, "I thought you had left me again."

"Never again, my dear. Now, take me home." Christine didn't move an inch away from Erik as he lifted her into his arms and began walking down the street, leaving Angel behind.

She watched as they disappeared down the cobblestone street. A carriage turned a corner and headed straight for Angel. She jumped back and landed in a large puddle of water and runoff from the filthy streets. She lost her footing when she took a step forward and slid on the slick stone. Water and filth splashed around her. Angel had lost her wings.

And with that, she was back to square one. Back to where she was before everything had happened. But what she would give to do it all over again! If only just once. To feel the sun upon her skin again without being shunned back into the shadows and the coldness.

Oh to feel beautiful again! Angel sighed and laughed at herself at thinking such a silly thing. There was no possible way she would ever get another chance to feel the same way again. Erik had chosen Christine and she would have to live with that fact, no matter how awful it made her feel in the pit of her stomach where her heart resided at the moment.

Could she dream though? Erik had once said that even when you are kept in the dark and cold, dreams will be there to warm you. Even for just a night. But a night was enough to keep the demons at bay.

Perhaps that was what Angel needed. A dream. In these familiar streets, she could sleep if she wished to do so. The cobblestones had been her bed when she was a child and the day old newspapers her blanket. A dream could keep the demons at bay indeed. At least until the sun rose again.

Angel shut her eyes and curled up against the ice cold wall of the Paris Opera. She put a pale hand to her chest and felt for the necklace but it was no longer there. No! It was around that little beauty, Christine's neck!

Anger welled up inside of Angel but she forced it down and tried to force sleep upon herself. Shaking back and forth, she sang to herself. "_Turn your face away from the darkness in your soul. Don't forget the part you play, in the opera. The most important role_…"

Turning on her side, Angel felt an object inside her thin wool sweater. She reached inside and removed a mask, half finished. The mask she had been making for Erik most recently. Tears fell onto the white article of clothing and she clutched it in her hands as she let sleep overcome her and in turn, dreams.


	2. The Lake

1

The Lake

Angel warmed her hands as much as she was able to by rubbing them fiercely together. She plucked the tin cover from the trashcan and began rummaging through the throwaways, looking for something partially edible. A chicken bone with a few scraps of meat still attached entered Angel's mouth and left with nothing but the marrow left inside that even a cat couldn't extract.

This was her daily ritual. Poking around alleys and finding her next meal in trash cans or along indentations in the gutters. It was the only way of living she had ever known. Ever since she was a mere slip of a thing she had been fending for herself and her dear uncle. Now her uncle was dead and it was just her. Less work since now she only needed to be bothered with pickings for one but Angel had always been able to count on her uncle to listen and offer some sort of company. At least then she wasn't alone.

Her eyes to the damp stoned beneath her feet, Angel stumbled upon a cold wall. She looked up to see the side of a high building looming over her. She let her fingers run in the grooves between the bricks at her level. If only she could take refuge in this grand building.

That's when she noticed it. The grate just a few feet away beckoned for her gaze. Angel went to it and put her fingers in between the squares of metal. She peered inside at the dark passageway, an area for runoff water to drain into the underground lake.

Accepting the fact that the grate was locked, Angel began to turn away but her finger was caught. She tugged it from the grate and the metal barrier opened. She relaxed and slid her finger from its entrapment while she opened the grate further.

Angel looked back, checking for anyone noticing her. When she found that no one was paying any attention to her activities, she crawled into the small passage, moving herself along with her legs and arms. Afraid that if she closed the grate completely it would lock and she would be trapped wherever the passage led- if anywhere - she left it ajar.

Angel couldn't see much, to begin with. But with the added darkness of the lower regions of the passage, she mulled over the idea of turning back. By the time the thought occurred to her, it was too late. Something had gotten a hold on her ankle and was dragging her out of the small passage.

Her fingernails dug into the slick stone above her. She tried to thrash around but there wasn't enough room to do anything but struggle.

When she was pulled entirely from the passage, Angel shut her eyes as her body fell into the cold water of the lake beneath the Paris opera. She wavved her arms around her in the water and soon she resurfaced.

Angel's hands found the side of a boat. She tried to pull herself into it but instead began to tip it. She threw her eyes open to find a dark figure with a hat with a wide brim and a black cloak around it standing in the boat with the end of a gondola paddle in its hands. Her fingers released the side of the boat as the figure brought the paddle down on her hands.

Angel went back under and when she came up again, raised her hands for a moment. "Stop! Please!" she exclaimed.

The figure said nothing, only waited for her to catch her breath. It stared down at her, its face hidden.

Angel took a last deep breath and looked up at the dark figure above her. She took a good long look but saw only black. "Who are you?"

The figure still remained silent, unmoving.

"What are you doing down here? Does anyone know about you?" Angel asked. Never had she heard of someone manning the underground lake. Why was this person down here? If it was even a person at all. But surely there were no such things as ghosts.

"What are you doing here?" the figure spoke with a threatening yet harmless tone.

"I wished to see where the passage led. Answer me. Who are you?" Angel didn't dare grip the side of the boat again even though she was having trouble keeping afloat.

"Get in the boat." it figure demanded. Angel did as she was told and entered the boat. The interior of it was much more elegant than anyone could have told from the outside. The lining along the sides was velvet and there were pillows with loose strings on the corners that made it look as if a prince would be gifted this boat.

Angel sat in front of the figure, not looking back. She could tell by the voice that it was a man, but who she did not know. Did anyone know?

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, realizing she didn't know the answer.

"Be silent!" the figure barked. "You will see soon enough."

The boat ride was short lived and when Angel was thrust out of the gondola, she found herself standing on a step. "Where is this?" she wondered.

The figure had reached the top of the stairs and had his arms stacked atop one another. His face was no longer hidden as it had been before; Angel could vaguely see white, waxy skin with a dark hole where the right eye should be. The other side of the face was still hidden in darkness. The figure pressed his hand upon the wall to his right and a door with a point at its peak creaked open. "Enter."

Angel made her way up the steps, her soaking clothes forcing more weight on her than she would have normally. The figure stood in the same position as she passed. Angel could feel a sense of danger emanating from him. But also something that frightened her; made her wish to turn back. Like a ghost story on a dark night told in the center of a wide room where anything could rise up behind you without warning.

Beyond the door was a living room with a couch, an organ with a score open atop it, and other furniture. Angel walked further into the room and rolled her head to examine it in its whole. "Where is this?" she asked again.

The door clicked shut behind the dark figure who was standing just inside the room with his arms stacked upon the other again in that stiff position.

"Are you going to speak?" Angel focused on the figure. "Are you capable of much speaking?"

The figure brought one hand to the top of his head and removed the hat. In the lighting of the room and the wide brim of the hat no longer providing any shade, Angel was able to see the face that had been hidden from her until now. What she had recently assumed was a sickly skin condition and the loss of an eye was actually a mask that hid the right side of the figure's face. While the left side of the face was completely normal, Angel couldn't guess why he would have any reason to hide the other.

He removed the cloak and let it fall to the floor against the wall.

"If you cannot answer me in speech then please do so with a note. Surely there must be a quill and ink and parchment around here somewhere." Angel began to search the room for anything to write with.

"Stop!" he ordered and her gaze immediately went to it. "Who are you?"

Sighing, she said, "I am Angela. I have no last name. The same to you."

The figure took a step forward and let his arms fall to his sides. "I am Erik," he threw his arms out to gesture to the entire room and all the conjoining rooms as well, "and this is all mine."


	3. The Angel's Voice

2

The Angel's Voice

Angel took a moment to fully take in her surroundings. Every carving in the molding along the floor and the corners where the walls met the ceiling was his. Every room with furniture elegant and simple was his. Every fiber of every carpet was his. Every drop of ink on ever piece of parchment was his. Was she, by entering his house, now his?

"Who do you share this with?" she asked, curious as to why there would be so much space for one person.

"I share this with no one." Erik said, moving stiffly to another part of the room, as if unnerved by Angel's movements.

She looked back at him and stared into the eye peering out of the hole in his mask. "So you reside in this large house with no one but yourself? Doesn't it get lonely?" Angel thought, then added, "Of course it does. What a silly question. I suppose I meant to ask: why build such a large house when there is no one to share it with?"

Erik refused to show any emotion to this stranger. But beneath his thick exterior, he was hiding an expression that could bring any old woman to tears.

"Hmm?" Angel pressed, wanting an answer. He had been silent enough. "Why build such a large place for only yourself?"

Erik knew she would not let up until he answered her. "I built this 'large house' for myself because mankind long ago decided that I would forever be denied a companion." With years of practice, his voice came out with nary a crack nor a break.

Angel's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Mankind fears and hates that which they do not know and they do not know of me. Therefore I am feared and hated."

"I don't understand." she admitted.

"It is the way it has been for centuries and will remain I fear for many centuries. I have accepted this fact and that is why I reside beneath this Opera; hiding from the world." Erik said.

Angel wasn't satisfied with his reply but felt that if she pressed on he would revoke her access into his home. "Why do you wear that mask over only half of your face? If you wish to hide your face from the world, why not hide it completely?"

Erik's eyes narrowed slightly but then he corrected himself. This matter was not something he wished to discuss so openly with a stranger and so he would not. She had no right to go about asking such things in his own house! Yet he offered her with a twisted answer anyway. "Mankind fears and hates what it does not know."

Angel got the message to back off from the subject and let her gaze wander once more. Then she heard Erik's foot brush against the cement floor beneath him. She turned back to him and saw his awkward position. Knowing that she should not overstay her welcome, Angel began to head for the door. "I suppose you wish me to leave now. I thank you for your kindness and welcome into your home. Good night, Erik." She hoped that he would not be enraged by her calling him by name.

Angel's hand met the door handle and began to turn it when he spoke. "If you wish to wash up before you leave, you may." By the sound of his voice she could tell he did not have experience with offering help to people. Before, when he had let her into the gondola, his voice was authoritative and demanding. Now he was making an effort to sound kind and gentle.

A smile crossed her lips and she released her hold on the doorknob. "Thank you, kindly." Angel gave a small curtsey which was difficult due to her ragged and dirty clothes still sticking to her from the soaking in the water.

"Come," Erik said, trying not to sound too demanding, "I will show you to the washroom." Angel thought of a windup toy when he first began to move from his position. Stiff and broken at first and then loose and smooth. She followed where he led.

When passing through several rooms on their way to the washroom, Angel came across a coffin with an open cover. She stopped walking and Erik turned back to her after several steps ahead of not noticing she had fallen behind. He gave her a questioning yet understanding look. "What is it?" he asked.

Angel pointed with a shaky finger to the coffin, "Why is there an open casket?"

He sighed silently. "When I have finished my opera and have seen it performed upon the stage of the Opera House above us, I will take it in my arms and get into this casket. I will close the lid and that will be the end of me."

Her brows furrowed again. "Why-Why would you wish to die at that time?"

Erik answered without hesitation. "I will have finished my life's work and therefore will have no other reason to live. Perhaps the world will sleep much easier after I am gone for they will know that I no longer pose any threat to them."

Angel suppressed a smile. "What threat do you pose?"

Erik did smile. "That would take much explaining. Now come, the washroom is just beyond this curtain." He parted the silk lace curtain before him and revealed a small stretch of a hallway that led to single door.

Angel passed Erik without caution this time and entered the washroom, letting the smile creep upon her lips once the door had clicked shut.

The porcelain tub was full of clear water. It appeared to have recently been drawn. Only now, in the dimly lit room with no one to see did Angel shed her body of the ragged clothes which she had been wearing for heaven knows how long. She placed one foot in the water to test its temperature and then let her hole leg slide into the tub. In a matter of moments, Angel was sitting in the porcelain tub, leaning her head back to soak her hair in the clean water.

Dirt buildup from months that didn't wash away when she had been consumed by the water before swirled around in the tub. Angel ran her fingers through it many times before finally locating the bar of soap that had too been crafted into something elegant. It was oval shaped with small designs carved into the top. They matched the designs on the moldings along the ceiling edges and the floor edges.

Angel washed the grime from her body and after she had finished, emerged from the tub with clean skin that without the ragged clothes and dirt clinging to her was quite beautiful. Her whole body was quite beautiful in fact but because of her social ranking, the world failed to notice that. Sad as it was, that was the way things were and she could do little to change it.

Angel grabbed a towel from the rung nailed into the wall at her left and began to dry off, making sure her feet and legs were free of water before she stepped onto the tiled floor. Once the task was done, she went to examine herself in the mirror on the wall with a simple frame.

With her hanging over her shoulders and her naked breasts hidden just below the bottom of the mirror, Angel felt like a Prima Donna. True, she had a lovely voice but it often went unused. Only when she felt depressed and was plagued with insomnia did she sing. Now, not thinking of Erik, she let her voice ring free.

Her notes wafted through the air like the aromatic smells of fresh baked goods. Her voice ran through the house and met Erik's ears…

Erik turned from his composition to better hear the faint sound. It sounded almost as if one of the singers was practicing. At this time of night though? How silly and why would they still be in the Opera? Besides, he could never hear the girls and men's voices, even at their highest volume, this far down. That meant the voice had to be coming from Angel.

Erik stood from his bench and began making his way, step by step, closer to the washroom. With every step and every note that entered his ears, he grew a fondness for Angel's voice. How he wished he could train that voice and hear it sing his melodies.

A thought occurred to him; why couldn't he train her voice? It was clear that she had nowhere else to go and did not wish to leave. Perhaps God had sent him a blessing, the answer to his prayers after years of suffering. An angel… the Angel…


	4. The Angel's Choice

3

The Angel's Choice

Angel emerged from the washroom with a red towel wrapped tightly around her body, the beginning of her back exposed by the limp corners of the cloth. Her legs had not been shaved in quite a while, so she made an attempt to keep them hidden in case Erik made a sudden appearance before her.

Calling from the room adjacent to the one she was currently in-Erik's coffin room- Angel asked, "Would you happen to have a razor?"

Erik didn't answer for a moment, wondering what she might need a razor for and then figured that was her business. "Yes. Just a moment."

Hearing the legs of the bench before the organ, Angel quickly pulled the silk curtain that hid the coffin room. She did not wish for him to see her. Besides, she did not know him well and he could take offense at a strange woman wandering about his house with only a towel for concealment.

Erik walked back into the room he had just left and headed for the washroom. The silk curtain was slightly transparent so Angel stopped him before he pulled it aside. "No!" Erik stopped in mid grab and released the curtain. Angel poked her hand out the side of the silk to receive the razor.

"What is the matter?" he asked, not handing it to her.

"I'm indecent at the moment…" Angel explained then added, "We do not know each other well and I believe it would not be right for you to see me with such bare flesh."

Erik mulled this thought over. Perhaps she was right. However, he had never been so close to bare, female flesh. If only just a caress… No! He stopped his thoughts. If he wished to train her, Erik could not violate her wishes. He placed the razor gently in her hand.

"Thank you, kindly." she nodded to him from behind the curtain and headed back to the washroom. Passing the coffin sent chills up her spine, it truly was an unnerving object to have in a house but who was she to question it?

Erik thought to pull the curtain aside and slip into the shadows and watch Angel in the washroom but then thought against it. His urges had never been so potent. Then again, he had never been so close to a beautiful woman that did not fear and loathe him.

Erik went back to his organ and waited. When Angel's song picked back up again, he slowly started to play the organ. With every note, Erik gained confidence in Angel's ability to be trained as a singer and for him to compose her songs. A small smile crept upon his lips even if for only a moment. A strange feeling stirred inside his chest. Happiness? No. Bliss…

When Angel had finished her hygienic tasks, she emerged into the coffin room once more, peering into the room first to be sure that the curtain was still in place. She held the towel around her body and let her now shaven legs be graced by the cold current that drifted through the house on the lake.

"Erik," she spoke up from just behind the curtain.

He poked his head up from the compositions he had just begun to fall into and turned in her direction.

"I don't wish to take more than I have been offered but would you happen to have any clothes to spare? It appears mine have been torn and worn beyond repair. Is there anything you could do?"

Erik held up an index finger and disappeared into the other room. Angel could hear his footsteps and when he was no longer in her range of hearing, thought it safe to enter the room. The coffin was sending chills up her spine. Besides, at the sound of his foot against the floor, she would hide back behind the curtain. It was a break of sorts.

Angel felt the cold stone beneath her feet and shivered in response. She walked deeper into the room, admiring the art and various small musical instruments and other objects Erik had hanging on the walls. But the artifact that caught Angel's attention the most was the Persian rug that hung the height of the wall to her left. She had always loved the look of those rugs. When she was child, she and her uncle would sometimes visit a peddler selling the intricate rugs.

Erik reentered the room with a handful of elegant clothes in hand. He had been staring at the floor while he walked and had not made a sound coming back. He looked up to find Angel examining the rug that he had acquired in his early years. Erik turned away as if it was unbearable to gaze upon her slightly revealed body in such its raw form.

Angel jumped. She looked to Erik who had made a small gasp when he turned his face away from her. "Oh!" she let out a small yelp and quickly collected the clothes he was holding out to her. "I didn't hear you come back! I thought it was safe to come in here! I swear I meant not for you to see me like this! It was merely your coffin room. They don't sit quite right with me and I needed an escape without barricading myself back in that washroom. I'm sorry, I meant no harm." Angel had covered herself with the clothes, clutching them to her body and letting the towel fall.

Erik pointed away and said, "Go!"

Angel rushed into the room he had come from and disappeared around the corner. When she was out of his sight, she leaned back against the wall, still clutching the clothes to her body.

Erik turned when he was sure she had fled the room. He noticed the towel on the floor and knelt beside it, grabbing it with his long and bony fingers. It smelt of soap. This fabric had been on her bare body. That familiar surge of desire ran through him again but he forced it down.

With his eyes shut tightly, Erik stood with the towel still firmly in his grasp. He had to dispose of the cloth and he resorted to the first way of doing such that came to mind. Erik went to the door with the point and opened it, stepping onto the top step. He saw the gondola still docked against the wall. Looking over the edge of the step, Erik released the towel and watched it as it disappeared beneath the water and released a sigh of relief when it had settled upon the bottom of the lake and out of his view.

What was wrong with him? He thought.

Angel fanned out the clothes on the bed in the room when she had recomposed herself. It was an elegant dress of a dark pink, almost red with black, leather tassels around the shoulders. It was truly beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful thing Angel would ever wear.

She put it on and examined herself in the long mirror. With her newly clean body, Angel looked exquisite! Marvelous almost.

She exited the room and found herself in the entry room alone. Angel looked around, not spotting Erik anywhere. Where had he gone? Then, the door creaked open and he stepped through. It appeared almost as if the exposed section of his face was pale. Angel's brows furrowed in confusion.

"You look quite beautiful with that dress…" he tried to compliment her but didn't like it should. It sounded broken and with too much effort.

Angel blushed despite the fact. She gave a small curtseyed, "Thank you."

Erik nodded and made his way to the organ. He seemed to regain that stiff movement he had when he had first invited Angel into his house. Sitting at the organ, he placed his fingers along the keys then changed their position several times before choosing a final area along the organ. "Would you mind trying to sing along with the notes I play?"

"Of course." Angel stood beside him and watched his ring finger press down on a single key. She took a moment to listen to the sound that came from the organ and then began to build up to it. Her voice cracked a couple times but when she cleared her throat and relaxed, Angel's voice came out as clear as crystal.

Erik began to play more and more keys and then began to play a few at the same time. Angel didn't fall far behind and hit almost every note. A sly smile made its way onto his face as he decided that with a bit of practice, she could become the greatest Prima Donna the Paris Opera ever had.

Erik stopped playing and Angel was left singing for a few seconds before she saw that he had finished. She closed her mouth, blushing out of embarrassment. He was looking at her with a serious expression now and opened his mouth to speak but then turned away to think of what to say.

Angel could tell he had something to say so she waited patiently.

Finally, he found the right words which turned out to be the simplest he could have chosen. "Angel, would you allow me to train your voice?"

She was taken aback with the strange offer. Erik saw the shocked look on her face and added, "In return, I will provide you with a place to stay, food, clothing, and anything else you may desire. Within reason." He didn't want to over extend the offer. After all, he didn't know this girl well enough to assume she would not ask for much.

Angel took a moment to think and let her gaze fall upon the white mask attacked the Erik's face. Her hand slowly went to the scrap of concealment and she tucked her thumb beneath it. Ready to remove it, Angel looked into Erik's pleading eyes. She could tell he didn't want her to see what lied beneath the mask but wanted to train her voice so much that he didn't do anything about it.

No! She released the mask and left the face beneath it a mystery. Remembering that he still wanted an answer, Angel nodded and smiled.

Erik, in return, grinned, repositioning his mask back to its original place.


	5. The Angel's View

4

The Angel's View

The rest of the night passed in a sort of relaxed feel. Erik showed Angel the other rooms in the house, which she was permitted and which she was not. As well as which rooms she would be wise to avoid. She thought nothing of it. What was there to be afraid of? Perhaps he was just a private person and there was so much already he had opened up to her.

The last thing he showed her was the room in which she would rest and change. Erik also showed her the hidden washroom.

"Not to be rude, but why do you have two washrooms?" Angel asked, holding the rough edge of the wall. The door that closed and blended in with the wall around it was opened to the left and Erik stood beside it.

"You see, when I built my home, I did not know the structure beneath it that well. Since then, I have come to know that it is sturdy enough to hold both sides of the house but, back then, I was worried that should a side or a portion of the house sink into the lake, I would have a remaining place to stay. Therefore, there are two identical sides of the house." he explained with more sincerity in his voice than before.

"I see." Angel looked about her and ran through the tour in her mind. Only now did she realize that the house actually was split symmetrically. The furniture in the rooms might be placed differently, but the shapes and space of the rooms remained the same. Aside from the fact that this washroom was hidden in the wall. "Then why is this room hidden into the wall?" she added.

Erik took a moment to remember. "I believe at that time, I was experimenting with hidden passages and rooms."

"Why-" She stopped herself before she asked anything else.

Erik placed a bony hand on her arm warmly-though his hand was cold- and urged her, "Do not be afraid to ask me questions. If I do not desire you to know the answer, you will not. All I ask of you is that you do not try to removed my mask. Understood?"

Angel nodded and continued with her question, "Why would you be experimenting with hidden doors and things of the sort? Does it fascinate you in such a way?"

His lips curved up in a delighted smile. Holding her arm, Erik pulled Angel away from the washroom, closing the hidden door with his free arm on their way out of the room. He led her into the entry room and then stopped, the smile now broadened into a grin. "I will answer your question with a tour!" Erik jogged across the room and gathered his cloak, draping it over him. He placed his hat atop his head once more and became the frightening figure that Angel had met. No longer the masked musician she had just begun to know.

"Where will we be going?" she asked, the elegant dress dragging along the floor behind her as she made her way toward him.

He turned his face to the ceiling and pointed animatedly. "Up there, my dear! I am going to show you my Opera."

Angel wondered why he called it _his_ Opera but decided it wasn't something that she should wonder about. She did not know why he wore that mask so why should this mystery be any different?

Erik held the door open for her and she felt that same surge of danger and that frightening feeling as she passed him. Angel entered the gondola with her arms held out on either side. She slowly took a seat, careful not to tip the boat. Erik stepped in with a swift grace and with the elongated paddle in his grasp, they began down the lake again.

Angel's gaze didn't turn back to Erik this time. Instead, she looked at the walls around her. As they progressed down the narrow cavern, she noticed that there were intricate carvings into pieces of the wall. Sure that the builders of the Opera didn't bother with carvings in the walls _below_ it, she asked Erik, "Did you do these?" Angel gestured to the wall to their left.

Erik turned toward it even though he was aware of what she was referring to. "Indeed. I spent most of my youth doing these as well as building the entry room of my home. I consider it a misspent youth."

"How so?" she turned to look up at him this time.

"Not many would find carving designs into the walls beneath an opera house as well as building a room would be a well spent youth. One would rather frolic with the girls and become an educated man. Not dwell in the cellars, hiding from mankind." Erik explained.

"I see." Angel thought his words over. They made sense enough. Yet she still wondered why he chose to live beneath the Paris Opera. There must be other places that he could go. Why here? Why hide at all? Just when Angel was about to ask that very question, they met the edge of the lake with a slight thud of the boat against the stone stairway.

Erik gestured for her to exit the boat first and she did so, lifting the dress a bit so it would not dip into the water between the gap of the stairway and the gondola.

Angel climbed a few steps to give him room. He nodded for her begin ascending the stairs. She began, making sure the dress did not drag behind her or tear beneath her feet.

At length, they arrived to the top of the stairway and stood at the end of a winding walkway which led up into the cellars of the Paris Opera. Angel looked back at Erik and he held out his hand to her which now bore a black glove of velvet.

She stared at him as she placed her hand lightly in his, a look of suspiciousness in her eyes. But she trusted him just the same. In the few short hours which she had known Erik, Angel felt she could trust him to a certain extent. Surely not enough to trust him with her life, but enough that if she fell from a far up place, she could trust him to help her back up.

Erik led her along the winding walkway until they arrived at the top, her feet beginning to grow tired from the walk along cold stone with no shoes to protect the bare bottoms.

"Be sure to cling to the shadows and if anyone appears, make sure you are well hidden. If you have to, move away from me to hide unless I hold you close." he told her and before he turned to open the average looking door before them, added, "One more thing: if push comes to shove, do not be afraid to flee back to this place. No one will follow you beyond this door. Just be sure to hold your hand at the level of your eye before you enter. Understand?"

Angel nodded and felt the warmth return to her body as he released her hand.

Erik opened the door slowly and brought the cloak up to hide his face as he peered left and right. When he was sure the coast was clear, he opened the door further and let Angel pass. When she did, she took a moment to fully take in the room. She was immediately disappointed by the bare walls and the few barrels of some unknown substance in the corners of the room.

"Where are we?" she asked, turning back to Erik.

He closed the door before answering. "This is the lower cellar. This room has been emptying out and filling up for the last ten years. At one point, it was even a small room of a hospital during an influenza epidemic. At the moment though, it serves as a spare room."

She nodded while he spoke and walked into the next room. The cellars looked more or less the same; what with barrels and props that would never be used again. Some rooms were more occupied than others.

They passed through many rooms until Erik stopped her and flew his arms out at his sides and turned. "And this, my dear, is backstage!"

Angel looked about her, taking in every detail. From the masks that hung on wooden posts at the higher levels to the powder plates in which the ballerinas would twirl the tips of their feet in before rushing onstage.

Erik led her to the higher levels and they stared down upon the stage from the highest they possible could. With a grin on his face, he met the edge of the wooden floor beneath them and jumped onto one of the ropes hanging. He slid down it a bit then jumped to another and then caught his footing gracefully on a single board hung between two ropes.

Angel followed his lead with less grace and less speed, but she followed it nonetheless. Finally, she caught up with Erik on one of the high landings across from where they had been standing previously. He stood close to her, making sure she didn't fall back while she caught her breath.

"Please tell me why you made me slide down the ropes and climb back up when we could've just swung across?" Angel said through deep breaths.

Erik brought her attention to one of the ropes in the line which they would have to swing through in order to get to this landing. "This would be why." He tugged lightly on the rope and it snapped, tiny strings of it fraying and untwisting. The board which the rope was attached to hit the stage with a loud _smack!_ and the rope fell in an odd coil around it.

"A decent reason, indeed." Angel said, pulling her head back from staring over the edge of the landing.

"I thought it might be." Erik gave a small smile and led her behind dark curtains. When they fell away, he and Angel were standing in front of a small door. "I warn you, it will be dark beyond this door and I must urge you to watch your step. Once we are in the box, I will light the stage and you can have your angel view."

"Angel view?" she asked.

"You will see." Erik turned back to the door and turned the knob, pushing it open. The hallway was quiet in the night and he led Angel down it, warning her when there were steps she needed to climb or walk down. Finally, he pulled a curtain aside and let her into the small room.

Angel felt her way around the benches and the two chairs and stopped abruptly with a jolt when she felt the edge of the small room. Her eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness for she could not tell what was before her. "Erik, where am I?"

No reply and when she felt for him, there was no one. "Erik? Erik!" Angel began to worry and suddenly a light flooded the room. When she turned back, she was overlooking the red seats of the Paris Opera and to her right was the stage upon which the lights were lit. The candelabra was lying on the stage with no one beside it. Who had lit the candles along the edge of the stage?

"Erik? Where are you?" Angel felt behind her and felt a solid being. She turned and saw his masked face staring back at her. Jumping with a shock of fright, she smacked Erik's chest and scolded him, "Do not do that to me! And do not sneak up on me!"

He smiled devilishly and she couldn't help but smile as well. He gestured for her to take a seat and she did, folding her arms on the red velvet edge of the box. "Where are we?" she asked again.

"We are in box five." he answered.

"Is there any particular reason you chose this box?" Angel looked at him.

Erik looked back at her and smiled again, "This is the box the Phantom of the Opera resides in."

Angel gave him a confused look. "Who?"

"The Phantom of the Opera, my dear."


	6. From Angel To Demon

5

From Angel To Demon

Several months passed in which time Erik trained Angel. During daylight, the two of them would rest and just before dark they would journey up into the Opera and overlook the happenings of backstage. When at last everything was ready to be set in motion upon the stage, Angel and Erik would reside in Box Five where they would enjoy the show. Then, just before the ending, the two of them would disappear into the darkness of the dimly lit halls and corridors of the Paris Opera.

Angel learned to prowl around the Opera during occasional daylight hours without being discovered. Soon, a rumor began to spread like a wildfire: chorus girls had seen two dark figures silhouetted against a wall but no one down the hall was to be seen. When she dared to glance back, the figures were gone. She supposed that there were two phantoms haunting this grand Opera House.

At evening before the opera would begin, Angel came across a group of chorus girls reciting the rumor and she chuckled to herself silently. "If it is a ghost they want, then a ghost they shall have." she muttered and she quickly lit a stage light and crept to a place where she would not be spotted. When the girls' eyes darted toward the round light whose beam was aimed toward a wall to their left, Angel darted before the stage light, turned her head toward the girls, and then sprinted away, extinguishing the flames in the stage light so the girls were immersed in the dark light of backstage once more.

Erik could hear the girls' shrieks of fright and when Angel appeared at his side, slightly out of breath from the sprint, his lips curved in a smile. "You frightened those girls?"

"It seems I did, yes." she admitted.

"You must be cautious when you do so. If they realize you truly are a person, live and whole, then they will hunt you down and you will never be allowed back again. And I will lock you out and be sure you can never return to me. I will not accept the consequences of your own actions. I trust you understand?" Erik warned her.

"Yes." And she did understand.

More time passed and it was the hour before Erik would deliver the Opera he had been writing for his dear Angel. She knew that she would star in his production. He would make it so.

"I have finished it!" he bellowed from the bench in which he sat before the organ with the score placed neatly on the rack. "Soon your voice will be heard! Your voice will no longer be for me only but for everyone! And you will be glorious."

Angel walked into the room wearing the same dress she had donned the night she had met him. The one he had so graciously given her. It still looked beautiful on her and maybe even more now that every inch of it was filled out. She was no longer the skinny and famished girl Erik had met. She was now a beautiful woman who would make any man turn his head in sudden infatuation. But most of all, she was his angel.

"My Angel of music…" he whispered though not so low that she could not hear.

"My dark composer…" she replied in a loving tone.

"It is time for you to shine in the light. No longer will you be forced to whisper melodies in the dark but now you will embrace every ear in Paris with your resonating song." Erik stood and took her hands in his. They stared into one another's eyes and knew that this relationship was no longer a thing of business. No, this relationship had blossomed into sincere friendship, bloomed into companionship, and flourished into love. Unrequited love but love that both felt, nonetheless. "You have grown so much from the girl who appeared before me just to find warmth and shelter."

"I am forever in your debt to you." Angel gave his gloved hands a light squeeze.

"There is no debt here." Erik assured her.

"No." she disagreed. "You took me in when I was cold, alone, and starving. You gave me your music. You gave me a place to stay. You have given me a life I could only dream of."

"Your dreams certainly aren't so grand." Erik laughed softly.

"I do not find grandeur in fancy clothes or jewelry or expensive items. I find grandeur in music, in warmth, in simple courteous gestures. I find grandeur in love." Angel brushed the exposed side of Erik's face with her hand and lingered on his jaw.

"What do you speak of? What such love can you find in this dismal place where I have hidden for so long?" He pulled her closer.

"I've found love in your gaze which you quickly avert from me when you notice I've seen you. I've found love in your music. I've found love in your heart."

"My heart is cold and unfeeling; just as my mask."

Angel placed her hand on his chest, over his heart and said, "Your heart is warm and I would not believe for a moment that it is anything less. How could something with such a beautiful beat be unfeeling when it sends my own heart into spiraling leaps?" Angel moves toward him and without any other words, Erik leaned toward her as she did to him. At the moment their lips met, Erik felt a wave of heat and unconditional love run over him. His face turned a light flush of pink and as they pulled away from each other, he knew what she was about to do.

Angel's fingers lingered from Erik's chest to the bottom of his mask. Her eyes never left his and even though he knew what she was about to do, he did not push her away or attempt to stop her. He did not curse her and he did not banish her from his home like he had to few before her. If this was what she wished, then she would have it. _As you wish…_

She gently pushed under his mask and with one more look, she tore the mask away. Taking in the revealed face before her, she yelped in fright. And she, like so few before her, recoiled in horror at the exposed face of Erik.

**_End of Part One_**


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